Inu Yasha in the Cupboard
by Kaliko Rosa
Summary: Twenty-year-old Kagome Higurashi has a lot of issues to worry about: the loss of the Higurashi Temple, a troubled younger brother, getting into Hakkaido University and so on — that is until one tiny visitor makes changes of epic proportions.
1. Prologue: Tiny

**Inu Yasha in the Cupboard**

_A fanfiction by Kaliko Rosa (Lovely Videl)_  
_Based on Rumiko Takahashi's "Inu Yasha" and the hit novel, "Indian in the Cupboard"_

_Dedicated to Brianne_

* * *

**prologue**

_Tiny hands,  
And tiny feet.  
Tiny smiles,  
So warmly greet.  
Tiny eyes  
So glisten gold,  
Lust and deep,  
With thoughts untold._

_Tiny grin,  
Yet hearty laughs.  
Tiny mouth,  
Yet boastful words  
Tiny steps,  
Pitter,  
Patter,  
Little feet  
Go unheard._

_Tiny voice,  
Softly whispers,  
Tiny red,  
In the late night.  
Little teeny tiny,  
Small in stature,  
Short in height._

_Tiny hands to hold my own,  
Tiny kisses upon my nose,  
Tiny secrets in the air,  
Tiny memories that lie there._

_And though thou art so tiny,  
Yet the tiniest friend I know,  
Still, in this sweet so tiny time,  
My love for thee doth grow._

**end prologue**


	2. Rain

**R A I N**

The rain came down in torrents, nothing but sleek, pouring sheets, endless blankets falling from the dismal gray expanse of sky, falling unto an expanse of black umbrellas. The raindrops shimmered as they spattered on impact, that slithered to the ground one by one, in a soft pitter patter heard by all, seen by all and felt by all. It was chilling to me and depressive, as I felt the water dance upon my skin, as if I were being bathed in the tears that my mother shed, the tears that we all cried inside.

I was not crying. I wanted to, and felt all the symptoms of sobbing within me, but it was as if my tears were given to the skies, and were shed along with the pouring rain. The grass was soaked beneath my feet, making standing even more unbearable in these already painful and tight black shoes – but I could never complain. Even if my toes would be permanently pressed and molded into each other because of the poor conditions my feet were in, I would still never complain. Now was not the time for such disgusting selfishness, or self-thought. I couldn't even think, never mind think of myself, as my mind continued to draw a blank as I still stood and watched the process go by.

There weren't many of us. Grandpa didn't have too many relatives that were still alive, only having had two children, mother, and Uncle Tsutomu, who stood over to the left with his wife. We hadn't seen them in the last seven years for we lived such long distances from each other, but now they were here, and it was no time for a happy reunion. Still, it was just them, the minister, myself, my mother and my brother who stood to watch the lowering of Kinto Higurashi's casket – to watch the funeral of my most beloved grandfather.

I took a deep breath and quickly held it. I cleared my mind for just one second, allowing the sound of the rain to fill my ears, feeling myself having been so close to erupting into a flood of tears, but instead deciding to keep composition, and so I stood tall. I had no strength in me to stand tall, and there was nothing to say that my heart didn't need mending, or my soul didn't felt torn, yet I had already lost my mother to her own state of an unbelievable depression, and I didn't feel that I could lose myself and let this entire yet small family fall to pieces. As for Souta, my younger brother and only sibling, I didn't know what to think of him. He stood beside me, exactly my height, for he was growing quite quickly as a teen. Souta was now fifteen, and I was now twenty, still five years apart, still very much his older sister, even if he could pass as my twin brother with his now very matured appearance. But I couldn't even bring myself to look at him at this moment, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the ground ahead of us, for if I knew that I even spoke to my dearest brother, I would begin to see something I could never stand any more of. I saw plenty of sadness; I felt it, felt the destructive power of loss and depression, easily signified by the mourning of my poor mother. But Souta… he was different. Souta was young. He was at a fragile stage of life, one that had troubled me dearly. Souta had been getting in more trouble than usual in high school after having left middle school last year. I was worried for him, concerned for his health, his attitude, his studies and so forth. With my job and with all of the tackling into getting an acceptation with Hokkaido University, I barely had time to really connect with my brother as we had when we were younger siblings. That's where Grandfather always stepped in. It seemed that even if my brother was a reckless teen on the verge of hormonal imbalances, he always had a sense of reverence with Grandpa, as if he were a child again endlessly eager to yet hear another story, to listen to another of Grandpa's enchanting tales about the Higurashi shrine and fables and legends of an enriched Japanese history that Grandpa knew at heart. There was no doubt about it – Souta was close to him, possibly the closest of all of us, and I just didn't know what my brother would come to be after losing a friend like our grandfather.

The patter of the rain began to grow dominance, almost echoing out the minister's words, as the closing prayers were given. But no matter if the rain were to sound like the crashing of the waves, or the fierceness of thunder, it could never drown out the sounds that so plagued my mind. It was the sound of my mother's sniffling and weeping, of her misery echoed by her motions, of the realization that she had lost her mother, she was losing her father, as I had lost mine long ago, as she had lost her husband. It was the sound of my brother and his breathing slowly, being utterly wordless, silent to the world as he watched his only father figure disappear from sight, probably having been much too young back then to remember when his real father… had gone as well.

I closed my eyes, feeling my black hair pat against the side of my face, slick now as the rain continued to pour drenching us all from head to foot, even under shelters of hooded umbrellas.

_I remembered. _I remembered losing everyone one by one; I remembered that each time it had rained as sadly as it did now. I remembered how each time my heart had fallen to countless pieces, how our lives were scarred with emotional bruises. I would always remember these things… the rain and the sadness and the tears – the pain. As much as I wanted to, I could never come to truly forget the pain of losing someone I so dearly loved.

I opened my eyes slowly, water trickling upon my black lashes.

A droplet of water lay upon my cheek. A droplet that hadn't journeyed from the sky, that hadn't landed upon my face, that wasn't a kin of the rain. I had created that droplet in my reflections of my own grief. I knew by the ache that overwhelmed me, by the tight grip I lay upon my umbrella handle, by the way I tried to seize my chest from a lonesome wail – I had finally begun to cry.


	3. Brother

**B RO T H E R**

"Ugh… this is tedious," I mumbled the words underneath my breath in disgust, finally shutting the application booklet with a last tiresome effort. How terrible! Those forms were just terrible! I mean, all I wanted to do was see if I could receive some financial support, maybe even be eligible for a scholarship of some sort, but no. It could never be _that _easy. There always has to be pages upon pages of senseless information to submit, things that couldn't be more needless for Hokkaido University as it was for me. I mean, my marital status? Honestly… I'm not married, no kids, and that's all there is to it. But with governmental forms like these… it could never be that simple.

Sighing, I shoved the application forms away into a desk drawer, deciding they had triumphed victory and managed to soak up all available energy. Today had been enough. Today had been strenuous enough for all of us, what with the rain… the bad shoes… the funeral. I didn't see why tonight had to follow in the same pattern of stress and aggravation. Those stupid forms could as hell wait as long as they needed to, well, as long as they could, seeing as they were due for submission fairly soon. But honestly, I should just be thankful to even _be _so involved with Hokkaido. Everything was balanced on a very thin scale in trying to be securely set with such a prestige school, one of the finest in Japan and definitely the best in my area, so if I didn't find ways to get the funding I needed for the full course, then I could just kiss Hokkaido goodbye.

Trying to whisk such thoughts away from my mind, I picked myself up, elbows on the desk surface, hands supporting chin, feet crossed at the ankles. From the reflection of the adjacent mirror, underneath the dim lighting of my bedroom, a girl returned my stare. I smiled at her quietly, and so she did the same, gazing at a curious angle, inspecting me as I inspected her. I hadn't seen her in quite some time, seeing as it was one of my apt duties to avoid mirrors and reflections, much too busy to pause and say hello to the girl that would so inevitably greet me in return. I had forgotten how she looked like, there with that pale smile and the lighting casting eerie shadows. Her hair was still that soft black, still with that inch of volume, still crowning her face like a velvet frame licking her shoulders. It was so close to being actually beautiful, if not for the bags underneath her honey-brown eyes, eyes that were tired and especially lacking sleep these last few days. Also, her smile was somewhat distant, pulled upwards at the ends of her firm lips, yet only by force. Her happiness seemed stressed – unnatural. Her image seemed to consume itself in all of her tiring activities, becoming more predictable and inane, and less like…

"Kagome?"

Startled and caught off guard, I took my eyes off my bored reflection to spot my brother peeking his head in from my bedroom door. As usual, monstrous earphones were dangling from his neck; with such a heavy bass beat to them I could practically feel it – typical for my little rocker Souta. His hair wasn't overrun by gel as it usually was, but puffy and frayed, in the ways he would sometimes wear it at home where none of his peers could possibly see him, where I'd take each and every opportunity to tease him as if they were around. But this particular time, I wouldn't mock him; he just looked adorable to me, a cute and curious little brother. Besides, it was unusual for the both of us to be home together at the same time; him usually hanging with his friends and stirring up some trouble somewhere which I'd eventually have to save him from, or myself working overtime at Effort Trust Insurance Co. trying to wrack up some extra income. Nonetheless, though I didn't so clearly show it, I was glad to be near him today.

"Hey Kag, what are you doing?" he stood himself into the room, probably noticing that I wasn't plunged headfirst into a gigantic book and avidly shooing him away – which was the usual case scenario when the rarity of us being around each other would occur. He was dressed as if he were going out somewhere, which was now his usual attire even if he were to sleep. I truly didn't understand that concept, it may have been stylish, but it was terribly uncomfortable! And it wasn't like there was anyone here to impress anyhow. Souta could run freely in a burlap potato sack around his mid-section and I doubt myself or Mama would raise an eyebrow, since we ourselves fashioned nothing much more extravagant than flower printed pajamas.

Still, I sighed looking around me, trying to find an alibi to cover up the fact that I wasn't doing anything at all, but couldn't find one. It wasn't normal for myself, a girl who would normally overused the excuse "not now, I'm too busy", but then again, today was full of unusual exceptions just because of the hard circumstances that everyone had to already undergo.

"Enh… nothing really," I finally admitted. "I was just working on um, those application form things I have to get in by Monday, but I'll get to it tomorrow."

"Not reading for once, huh?" Souta shut off his Discman, which was wedged in the side pocket of his oversized denim jeans, and plopped himself down on my bed. For once, he didn't even scrunch up his face in disgust at my pink bedspread, or my posters of unicorns and other peaceful collectibles. He seemed to swallow it all in gazing mindlessly, as if a bit of solitude was what he had so discreetly came for.

"Nah, not tonight," I answered quietly, turning to face him from my desk chair. He had a totally blank expression written on him, one that stated that Souta didn't have any purpose or any reason to be with me, asides from the fact that he just wanted to. It was a bit heartwarming in a sense.

"Hey, uh, do you have your classical CDs with you by any chance?"

I couldn't help but flash him a suspicious look, directing my head over to my CD rack atop the opposite side of my desk, where a collection of orchestral soundtracks and nature-esque solitude CDs lay – the only types of music that enabled me to enjoy and study with at the same time. However, had they been in Souta's possession, they'd do nothing more than serve as wonderful dust collectors or possible cup coasters, as I couldn't see what he would ever want to do with them.

Souta raised himself and filed through the ten that I happened to have out, and I couldn't help but simply observe as he pulled out my Classic Piano collection.

"Mind if I borrow it?"

Still with that suspicious look I shrugged and casually agreed, seeing as that collection had been a past obsession, and I was getting quite tired of it. "Go ahead. Just don't break it or anything."

Souta smiled in return, then to the jumping of my heart, purposely tossed the case in the air and caught it – but barely. "What? This old thing? Probably cost ya only 750 ¥ at the drugstore, I'd bet."

"Hey Souta, cut that out!" Frowning, I stood up and snatched the CD away, inspecting the case cautiously. All right, I admit, it actually cost 738 ¥, but that I would never tell him. Just because it was cheap, didn't mean it wasn't precious to me. It had been a past obsession after all, and I prized my classical collection, being able to name a piece to fit my every mood Right now, _Die Walküre_ seemed like one I was tempted to label upon my brother, as I could have just strangled him had that CD fallen.

"I'm just playing around," rolling his eyes, as if exhausted by my discretion, he plopped himself back down on the bed and stared up at me with his stupid puppy eyes. I _hate _that. Did Souta seriously have to be born with such an expression, such an innocent 'what did I do wrong?' expression which had to melt my heart each and every time he would mask it on in defense? I figured he'd eventually grow out of it, though it seems he's been growing more into it than ever before.

"You know I would never break your stuff," once again – the quivering puppy eyes, now equipped with an equally heart-tugging tone. Sighing in a miserable defeat, I sat down alongside him, bed creaking argumentatively in its usual way of signifying that my diet sure wasn't effective, placing the CD in his lap yet still looking at him curiously.

"I know you won't, I think," I smiled quietly. I could actually recall of a thousand times when he _had _broken some of my most treasured and expensive belongings, but I decided for now I wouldn't hold it against him. "But what do you want to do with it anyway? You've never liked that kind of stuff. I imagined it to be your version of nails on a blackboard."

Souta took a breath and shrugged once again, looking at our reflection in my desk mirror across us, where that girl now sat with a young male, or should I say, where a woman sat with a young man. It was _strange_ to think of it that way, for I saw my room as still childish, still girl-like with teddy bears and pop idol posters, certainly not woman or adult like, but that's what I was technically – an adult. And here now my brother was on the verge of becoming one, yet still as I saw ourselves looking back at us from a mirror I've had since I was ten, my heart still deeply longed only for that childhood we were so quickly leaving behind.

"It's just calmer, that's all," Souta finally replied, taking out his own bass-infested CD from his Discman, then inserting mine, selecting track 4 – my favorite piece, yet I could only wonder as to how he knew which one was the best song on a 20 track album that I hadn't thought he was so familiar with. But I didn't ask, despite the fact that I wanted to. Souta wasn't always the type to be so open with his emotions; he was more the kind who was fond of reflecting upon things on his own upon his own time, and so I didn't pressure him otherwise. Besides, wasn't it evident? His type of music was fast and wild and could make a heart race or blood boil, the exciting overactive style that my brother invoked 90 percent of the time. But he was only human, and he had my blood in him too after all. Every now and then, it was only inevitable that even Souta would need some time of quiet melodies, and there was no other time than now that Souta would need it most. He hadn't left our home in an entire week now, either than to do his regular chores cleaning up the temple grounds. He wasn't even going to school, having stopped on the Monday, the same day we had been at the hospital… at Grandpa's bedside.

I choked a bit, and stopped staring at my brother before he came to notice. He hadn't been the same way ever since, but then again, neither have all of us. The house was like a terribly quiet place at times, scarily quiet that a teardrop could be heard falling from every corridor. Thus, I could easily remember hearing my brother's tears in the last five nights, even though I knew he tried to hide it. But with a room next to mine, as it had been for years on end, I knew my brother too well to fall for his false smiles, as he knew me too well to fall for mine.

"Is Mama still downstairs?" he looked to me, laying his back against the footboard of my bed, as I could barely hear the melody of _Claire de Lune_ from his giant-speaker earphones. I hadn't quite expected the question, seeing as we both obviously knew that our mother was still in the kitchen as she had been the entire day, but I figured it was Souta's attempt to make conversation.

I nodded in response, appreciating the silent music, trying not to think much of our mother and Uncle Tsutomu, deciding that I didn't really want to know what they were discussing. I had a feeling I knew where it was going, and I decided I'd hang dearly onto the minute happiness that I managed to have left, before being further burdened upon discovery on what it was they were speaking of. The time would come when I'd have to know, and patience did me well until then.

"What do you think they're talking about down there?" But apparently, Souta wasn't the type to let things just rest and play by ear. I wasn't earnest to feed his curiousity, but I didn't want to let the air hang dry either.

"It's about the will, Sou-chan, the will." I repeated the undesired topic at hand twice, to emphasize it so I wouldn't have to mention it again, and I called him by the nickname I barely use with my brother anymore, since he had adequately outgrown it, but still I used it trying to soften the harsh reality of the statement. He knew just as well as I about the nearly crisis-like financial conditions we faced, and so just as I, he also thought it better to be a subject to avoid.

"I thought so," Souta sighed, standing himself and rustling a hand through his fluffy mounds of hair, pressed flat down the center by the headphone band. I smiled, possibly even a real smile, at admiration of my brother. He was just so silly, a silliness that sometimes got the worst of him, yet always managed to bring happiness to at least somebody, such as myself.

"You sleepin' yet bro?' I asked, ruffling his hair a bit too after standing with him, but having to reach upwards since he was growing taller than me – a feature that made me feel so insignificant in comparison. He _was _five years younger than me, but my supremacy was beginning to show less and less.

Souta, stretching his arms above his head, glanced towards my night table where my alarm clock sat, hands pointing to a faded 10 and 3. "10:15? Nah, it's too early. I'll just listen to this CD thing of yours I guess."

I kind of livened up at that response, having not expected it at all, somewhat still surprised at all of Souta's serene and quiet actions. "It's great to listen to while studying, you know. How are you doing with your homework? I hope you managed to catch up to your class; don't want to be backtracked by a week now since you're going back on Monday. Do you want me to help you?"

Souta, who was now making his way out, turned to me with a sudden smile, "You'll never guess, Kagome. Aoki brought all of this week's homework to me last night, and I just finished this morning."

"Really?" I gave him an impressed nod, hands on hips as if in disbelief for my C average little brother. "Great work there! I hope you keep it up."

"Well, I'll try but –"

_Then suddenly, my brother was rudely interrupted. _

Echoes of shouts came from downstairs, disagreeable and arguing shouts of obscure things I didn't even want to try to conceive. My hands fell to my hips, as I held my breath waiting for it to stop. I was angry. They were so inconsiderate. What a way to ruin what should have been a fine discussion between my brother and myself. I felt like slamming the door and I would have, but Souta still stood by the door frame and so instead I swallowed down my infuriation.

"Damn them," I mumbled under my breath, wishing for all of this unwanted mayhem to be over. "Damn them and that _stupid_ will."

Taking a breath and attempting to relax myself, I looked to Souta, who was fooling around with his Discman and browsing through the tracks. I couldn't help but wonder about him, raising an eyebrow, seeing as he seemed as if he hadn't even heard the racket from below at all, either that, or he did an incredible job pretending as if he didn't. Souta was like that a lot. He sometimes acted and pretended as if he didn't see, hear or notice when bad things happen, acting as if he were normal – usual. But I wasn't always successful, and backfired with those who knew him best, such as myself. I knew when my brother was actually clueless, and the times when he would just be ignorant.

Then quickly Souta looked to me as the downstairs' noise faded.

He had a strange expression borne upon him, with his brown eyes alive with a colourful rush to them. He seemed to want to say something, yet he just couldn't out right say it… but then he did in a voice so subtle yet fiercely direct:

_"There's something for you." _

"Huh? Something for me? From what?" I couldn't help but appear puzzled, totally contrasting his newfound serious look, as I was confused, since I felt entirely clueless as to what he was speaking of. Here the boy went to inattentive to as if undercover confidentiality without any means of making sense.

The expression of hesitance grew intensely upon Souta's strained face, and I worried that he wouldn't proceed to explain himself and what exactly he had for me, but he said more, this time his voice now lowered to a timid whisper:

_ "A cupboard." _

I paused myself, as if expecting any sort of follow up to his statement, caught hanging in the balance of suspense and confusion, echoing in my mind the totally senseless thing he had just said: _a cupboard? _Thoughts rushed to me, thinking of what could possibly relate to a cupboard, drawing only flat to the conclusion of the kitchen and food storage, things that didn't necessarily pertain as being "something for me".If I could own question marks, they would have been circling around my head at alarming rates at that particular moment in total perplexity to the point that my younger brother was trying to make, which just didn't cut across very successfully at all. I didn't know exactly if I had, somewhere along the line, skipped on some important detail, or if he was just telling me something that I really didn't know about at all.

"I'm not getting this, Souta. What are you talking about?"

He sighed heavily in response, eyes deep and alluring, making me want to grab him by the shoulders and shake the living truth out of him. His lips were poised as if ready to say a word, as if his meaning were dancing on the tip of his tongue yet he refused to voice exactly what it was. That air of hesitance grew thicker, to the point where he just abruptly turned away to my disappointment. My heart sank, as I hated when I could never understand something important – as he made it seem.

"Souta!" as he walked away to his room, I let out a breath of exasperation. He couldn't just _not _tell me what he had intended to after the strange things he had just uttered. He couldn't leave me hanging so desperately on the balance, "Souta, come on, tell me, what cupboard?"

Souta paused in mid-step, then turned around again and faced me square in the eye. Boy, he sure was tall, though it was never more apparent until he came to stare you down with a mysterious aura that I yet couldn't explain.

"I guess I'll tell you about it tomorrow." 


	4. Will

**W I L L**

"Souta! SOUTA!!! Will you hurry it up? You are going to be late again!"

The house, although fresh at 6:45 in the morning, rang alive with my irritated demands, hand pounding furiously against the stairwell wall. I could just about solemnly swear that had I not seen my brother disappear off upstairs, I would have stated that there was not a living thing up there. But there was – my brother, typically. For the first few minutes I had awaited him, in a moderate form of patience that involved constant pacing and tapping of feet, but now as my analog watch noisily ticked away valuable seconds, I doubted I could wait very much longer without ending up late myself. I had already been lenient with him after all, considering that it had been near to a week for him from being absent from school and myself being absent from work, but my lenience has definite limits. If he kept up this act, I could speed to downtown at 100 kilometers per hour and still be given dirty looks by Mr. Yokoyama – my boss of no mercy.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming already," Souta, drowned from head to foot in all the latest male fashions in jewellery and silver bracelets (to compensate for the fact that he detested wearing a school uniform) and reeking strongly of cologne, plundered down the stairs, hair practically shimmering from a stick-solid sheen of gel. I may have even commented on how handsome my dear brother was, had I not been so infuriated by his negligence for punctuality. "We're not even late, we always leave at this time."

I sighed at his youthful ignorance, dusting off my knee-length skirt, picking up the 1992 Toyota car keys, and hustling him out the door. "I had already told you at breakfast that I need to fill up on gas. We're both going to be late now, so hurry it up next time, okay?"

"Alright fine, sorry bout that. Won't happen again, Kagome, I promise."

I just smiled, hurriedly, but yet smiled. Souta Higurashi sometimes would come to forget about "I will's" or "I'll try's", but he never did come to break a promise. That was a genuine quality that Grandpa had so developed within all of us.

"It might rain later, so bring your windbreaker," I reminded him observing as he stuffed the expansive thing into his tiny backpack, as I was fumbling for my house key in my purse, just about ready to lock the door, when I came upon something unexpected. Both my brother and I paused; stock still -- straight ahead of us, still in the house, standing quietly by the stairwell was our mother.

I didn't know what to think exactly, watching her watch us in return. I mean, what was I to think? It wasn't normal for Mama to be up at this hour, and even if she were she wouldn't have slithered around so quietly, so unnoticed. Besides, Mama barely had the energy to see us off in the mornings, and she most definitely didn't have that kind of motivation this past week. We – Souta and I – hadn't spoken much to her, at least not as much as we spoke to each other, which was rare already in itself. All in all, the house became eerily quiet, something that was uncomfortable and uneasy, yet entirely unavoidable. I had been hoping that returning to work today, and Souta going off to school, might ease the pressures on a grieving family, maybe even restore the happiness that was once there. But then again, there hadn't really been much happiness in Mama. As she stood there, only a couple of feet away from my paused self, I could already see what had been growing in her, accumulating, over a period of months: stress, fatigue, depression, inability. It was never more evident than now, her eyes with bags underneath, even deeper than my own, skin paled and face expressionless, nearly scary had she not been my mother, once full of a sweet love and charm. I could barely remember Mama that way – I could barely remember _us that way, with family dinners and laughs and jokes, hugs and kisses while watching television programs or movies together. It was a pleasant memory, but that one didn't serve to reality any longer. That life had been whisked away from my mother's once sparkling eyes, that energy from her active self, that brilliance from her gleaming smile all in the time that her father, Grandpa, had been revealed to have a brain tumor last November. From that day on laughter had become extinct, and I could only wonder as to where real happiness went. And so there she stood, this inane and lifeless mother of mine, for reasons I didn't understand._

"Mama? Why are you up?" Souta was the first to question, peeking in through the screen door and gazing curiously at our mother.

I quickly forgot about the time, reading the seriousness behind my mother's distant eyes.

"Mama, what's wrong? You should be resting."

"Resting from what, Kagome?" Her tone surprised me – it was loud, not only loud, but also icy and uninviting. I nearly felt insulted so suddenly without reason, just hurt to the reality that my mother was the way she was, no longer lighthearted or endearing in the way she had been. I barely could understand who my mother was now.

"Well, just um... resting, mother. I mean it's earlier than usual for you to be up. I was just about to head to work and drive Souta to—"

"You're not driving anywhere today, Kagome. Call your boss and tell him you're sick – make up something. Souta, same with you. You're not going to school today."

I stared at my brother. Normally, the mere ideal of not going to school would send Souta in bouts of happiness claiming victory over the school board, but now his expression was as confused yet also as concerned as mine was. I could tell by our risen eyebrows and shortened breath that we could both easily take the hint that something was most definitely wrong. It was a terrible feeling, and one that so rudely interrupted the midst of "get-to-work" rush we had been in, but more so, punctured the hopes that this day could be the new beginning of a near-to-normal life.

"But Mama, we've already been absent for a week," I decided to try out my luck, turning back towards the cold silhouette. I figured that maybe she'd reveal more reason if I began to protest a bit. "I can't miss any more days, you know I need the money, and Souta can't be—"

"Kagome, **_do not question me_**_." _

I shut up immediately, feeling my throat get caught at the bold irritancy in her tone. My mother was not happy. My mother, who hadn't changed appearance in like eight years with the same beautiful curly hair wrapping her face and pleasant smile to accompany, all of a sudden didn't seem familiar at all. I barely ever saw her angry – upset, yes – but never angry. It reminded me almost instantly of the arguments that had gone on all throughout the weekend: raised voices and discontent tones between herself, Uncle Tsutomu and Aunt Ryoko – and now with me.

"Kagome, you are an adult now," She looked towards me, though I barely returned that stare, afraid of the flame within her eyes, almost hurt by it. "You can make your own choices. I have something to tell you and your brother, and it is much more important than one day of your job or one day of Souta's schooling. But if you think otherwise, then go ahead and run off to work. Souta, you're staying with me, for I need to talk to you and you will listen."

I watched uneasily as my brother sulked past me, flashing me a totally confounded look, feeling less apt to hear my mother's news as I was. He dropped his backpack by the shoe closet, and I knew then that this was no joke – he _wasn't_ going to school. It was so strange, so weird even. My mother had never done such a thing before, never had reason to pull myself or Souta out of class for a "talk". It was something that accentuated this moment as important, yet, I _needed to go to work, much more than my brother needed to go to one day of school. It was like a necessity, for when after finals were over, more students would be applying for my job and my hours may be cut down to size, and so the income as well. Missing a week was critical enough as it was, but how long could that pattern last?_

"Mama, can't you tell me the news tonight, when I get home?" Again, I took a chance, gambling for some cooperation from her. "I'll come home a bit early if you'd like."

She gave me another look. It was nearly frightening, needless to be described in words. I could tell by just that one glance – she was irritated, she was tired, she was upset and unwilling – it was now or never.

Obediently, without a word yet filled with a disappointed dread, I stepped back into the house and removed my shoes, closing the door behind me, yet catching a glimpse of my watch. A hand lay on the 11, another on the 7. It was five to seven. It was impossibly late now anyway, there was no turning back. I may as well go and face the undesirable, as much as I didn't want to.

As we came upon the kitchen to the table where we ate, I took the seat across from my brother. Judging from our nearly identically puzzled faces, I felt no older than he was, despite the "adult" label my mother so entitled me to. The wooden chair was rigid and uncomfortable, making my back feel stiff, adding to the misery of the moment.

Then my mother took her seat, in the middle of us both, with me and Souta at the ends of the table facing each other in concern, my mother at the side, facing neither of us, yet staring ahead at the wall as she spread documents along the table surface. I noticed that she had just awaken, still head to toe in pajamas with uncombed bed-hair, yet even with my brother fashioning his stylish wardrobe, and me in my business attire, still our mother looked much more prestige and intimidating than we ever could.

I observed silently as she filed through those numerous sheets. I swallowed nervously at the sight of them, playing around with my blouse collar in need of a distraction. I did _not want to talk about this. I did not want to talk about this now, or ever, for that matter._

"Do you know what these papers are all about?" My mother asked dryly, knowing that we all knew the answer, for it was only as plain as day.

"It's the will, Grandpa's will," Souta answered softly, stating the obvious. I could tell he too wanted to distract his mind, calling over to Buyo, our overweight Calico, who, though a feline who had no business in the human affairs, still looked as perplexed and concerned as we did. I felt like calling to the cute little thing too, maybe using the excuse to let Buyo outside to allow me to escape from the situation, but still I knew it was already beyond hope.

"That's right," Mama looked to Souta, and then looked to me, meeting our eyes as if to subconsciously warn us to keep attention, and quit using Buyo as a point of refuge. It felt so official, so formal, like it was a hearing or something, rather than a family conversation.

"As you know, myself and my brother and sister-in-law have been discussing this will for the weekend while they had stayed with us," Mama said, pausing to look over some documents before going on to the next one.

I would have considered it more argumentative than "discussing", but I kept my thoughts from being voiced. It would have been nice to get to know my extended family a bit better while they had lived with us for four days, yet it had seemed impossible considering the conditions that we were all having to cope with. Everyone had been quiet to everyone else, with the exception of this cursed will, where havoc had been raised over it for reasons I would soon know. Whatever was written on those papers, whatever words had been exchanged over those papers, was practically sacred. I was afraid to even look at them, for at the sight of my mother's disdain and forlorn expression, whatever it was this will had to reveal, it sure didn't seem to be very promising.

"Are you going to tell us what you guys decided?" I finally asked, deciding that maybe talking would relieve some tension, but soon after I quite regretted it, feeling my voice echo itself as my mother didn't answer right away. I stared at Souta with a dubious expression, wishing only he had come downstairs earlier, and just maybe we could have escaped in time before all this had to occur.

Finally, our mother shared a quiet nod, "This is very serious, Kagome. You may think that this is a waste of your time and Souta's while you two could probably hear it later on, but I felt it's best you hear it now. You can make your judgments later."

I swallowed, both down my nervousness and my pride. I felt aggravated by her answer; the fact that she would assume that I would think the will was a "waste of time". I mean, yes, if anything I'd rather be at work happily expecting a paycheck, but this was of equal importance and I _knew_ that. It wasn't my mother's right to go parading as if she knew what I was thinking and displaying me to be some sort of selfish money-starved ogre, but it wasn't in my power to argue at this moment. There were lines strewn all over the place, and I felt that I couldn't cross any of them.

"You know what, Souta, why don't you go call your school now and Kagome's office to tell them you two won't be coming in for one more day," My mother, to my surprise, turned to my brother with a kind dismissal from the table. How I deeply envied him. "My address book is on the counter in the hall by the phone. Be prompt, okay hun?"

Souta nodded very agreeably, looking almost happy to be talked to in a somewhat affectionate tone – of which I envied once again, how great it is to be the youngest child – and raised himself to go over and do as he was asked. He only stopped once to give me a fleeting glance, one that easily read "I don't plan on returning quickly. Good luck against Mama's wrath," as he disappeared down the corridor. I didn't expect it would take him long too make the calls, but still, while he was gone I would be alone with mother, alone with her and the sheets of paper that angered her so.

"I wanted to speak with you first Kagome," Mama's voice caught me off guard, as she leaned in and gave a little sigh. I could tell that for the first time since I had seen her this morning, Mama was finally starting to show a few signs of fatigue. I had figured she had awoken earlier just to catch up with us before we left, so it was only natural. Yet, even then, she still held her position of authority.

"I'm glad you stayed home. I'm sorry that you couldn't go to work today, but after you hear what I have to say, I don't think you'll worry so much over Effort Trust."

I looked to her suspiciously, waiting for Mama to elaborate, of which she never did, probably waiting for me to ask her to do so. Only thing was, I wasn't so sure what to say. Should I just go and directly ask why I should not worry about my job? Truth of the matter was, I barely wanted to know. I feared what she might say in return, but knew that it would eventually come to be said, so I could only hope for the best.

"Why would you say that, Mama?" I allowed the words to stream out before I could restrain them any longer, feeling clamped and anxious while unbuttoning my top blouse button from choking my neck and abruptly tugging off my ponytail. I barely ever like to wear my hair up, quite comfortable with the simple slightly-past-shoulder-length style I've fashioned over the years, but it was one of the requirements at work. But at the moment, I was not at work, and felt any sort of remote comfort was of absolute essence.

"Kagome, I'll be blunt," Mama stated, pulling a bang back behind her ear. I held my breath at such a phrase, wishing her to take it back, wishing she would instead beat around the bush until there was no more bush left to beat, rather than being direct. For some reason I was quite content with the suspense of not knowing, happily left aloof. Almost instantaneously, I began picking at the tablecloth to try and keep my mind as aired as possible. I wasn't trying to be rude or stupidly ignorant, it's just that it didn't take anyone special to notice that whatever this was, it most certainly wasn't good news.

"I cannot support this family as well as I could before," Mama began taking in a heave of breath as I could do nothing but listen. "I don't earn enough with this cashier job to support the lot of us."

"But you really don't have to," already, I began to interrupt. Sometimes, a bit of two-way conversation was the only way to keep me sane when listening to what I didn't want to hear. "I can as well take care of myself with the Effort Trust income, and Souta can get a better job than his paper route when he turns sixteen next year. You're not switching to another job, are you? Because you don't have to."

"Kagome, let me finish," Mother looked to me plainly, signifying that her income was not what was of concern, and now I was the one jumping to conclusions. I couldn't help it though, feeling so subject to the awry conditions while silent, demanding to voice up against what I already couldn't change.

"The Higurashi Temple costs a lot to maintain as you already know. Myself and your grandfather could manage before, because he took care of grounds keeping while we were gone or busy, plus his old age pension went to cover any extra costs if the outside shrines would need repair on the roofing or so forth. And—"

Mama paused for a second, I could tell by how quickly she spoke that she was near to fighting to keep the words coming. It was difficult for mother to speak of this, as it would be for anyone, but most difficult for her. My worry was slightly replaced by compassion, as I began to wonder as to where mother was leading. For once, I almost even came to want her to be more blunt than she was being.

"… and well, Grandpa left us a good lot of money in his will, as he promised he'd always take care of us, but I'm afraid it won't be enough."

"Enough? Enough for what?" I couldn't help but ask. All this time, though adult as I was, I still felt as if a child to these affairs, as if my ears were too young to hear or understand them. I knew that we were in financial trouble, I had known that for a while and I knew that as the property value of the area around us increased, so did maintaining such a large level of land. The shrine was old, incredibly old in some areas, and called desperately for repair and attention. But without Grandpa, it was hard to take care of such a place or fund such maintenance, it was hard – but yet no one deemed it to be impossible.

"Kagome, we may have had enough before," Mama sighed, looking to me, pleading with me to grasp her words. "But that was before your Grandpa had to go in for that operation. You do remember that we spent a lot of money for his medication and all of those many hospital bills, not to mention paying for the travel to get to Sapporo and staying at that motel. Of course, I'll never regret our efforts, but there was a price to them."

I nodded vaguely, beginning to come to terms with what mother meant. We all knew that there were financial issues to be dealt with; they were, after all, entirely unavoidable at the expenses the hospital needed. Mama hadn't wanted to give up on Grandpa, and I would always admire her for that. She had been so strong at that time, still burning in my memory, as she had never accepted no for an answer. Because of the effects of the tumor, Grandpa couldn't argue otherwise, and neither did Souta or I. We were on our mother's side, and as a family we fought until the very desperate end to save whom we loved most, actions influenced by emotion, rather than practical sense based on finances. As much as that decision now had us neck high in loans and debts trying to scramble for some space away from it all, as mother said, we'd never _ever_ regret our efforts. Never.

"How much do we owe the bank, Mama?" I asked quietly, thumbing through what I knew of insurance policies. Working for Effort Trust led me to be fluent in such matters, and I suddenly wondered why I was so aloof in this business Mama was drowning in. I was the eldest child after all, shouldn't I have been more involved in our crisis? But I did put in my efforts, in fact, all of my efforts. My working overtime at Effort Trust didn't always go to my schooling, but plenty of it went directly to Mama when I felt she needed it – which sometimes could be often. But as for talking about the matters, even though I felt that facing such ordeals was something I was now old enough and mature enough to do, it still felt like something of which I didn't want to become too indulged in. Fact of the matter was it was scary to know such things. No one wants to know that they're family is barely hanging on the balance of living means, but more so, even a family that knows it will not always want to discuss it.

"We owe a lot Kagome," Mama answered dryly, gazing over a few sheets of paper, then pausing her eyes over a large amount of figures. She sighed in self pity, "It seems we owe the Otaru Dominion Bank 650, 742 ¥ for the last few hospital visits, as well as the accommodations in Sapporo and the operation, the doctors and specialists, medication…"

"But wait a minute," I argued, astonished. Even I hadn't thought we were under such a debt. "You said Grandpa left us something in his will. That must be able to cover it."

"It's not enough, Kagome," she looked to me and spoke in a matter-of-factly way. She seemed to appear somewhat disgusted, as if she hated talking about this, and needless to say I agreed with such a feeling. In our family, the loss of a loved one is a terrible yet frequently run across thing, and when a will would be presented, it was literally considered sacred. It was a gift after all from the deceased, and more than anything, Mama and I absolutely detested speaking of the will as if it were just some big money grab. But yet, we had no other choice but to discuss it, for it was just Mama, Souta and I now. We had to take care of each other.

"I hadn't even included your school budget on that," My mother's eyes scanned over scribbles on a notepad, her calculations, I figured. "I still have 130, 148 ¥ in savings, but that's for your university courses and even yet that's not enough, which is why you've overworked yourself to try to make up for my recklessness with money."

"Mama, it's not your fault!" I argued quickly, wondering why she would so suddenly turn against herself. "Everything you've done for us has been more than a blessing. These money troubles were just inevitable, that's all, there's no one to blame. Besides, Grandpa's gift to us must be able to at least cover one of these expenses, plus I'm sure I'll qualify for a student loan."

"You're right about that," Mama nodded, finally allowing me to take a short breath in relief to be enlightened with some good news, brief as it would be. "During the time your grandfather was sick, and we had to visit that neurologist, I had to use a lot of Souta's college savings to cover the costs. It seems that what Grandpa has left us in return will be enough to satisfy all of our needs, but it won't compensate the needs of this temple, and needless to say, he made it so that we wouldn't have to worry about the temple grounds at all."

"What do you mean?" I wondered anxiously, happy to know that our family had some sort of rescue wormhole to slip out of, but still unaware as to how far that wormhole stretched. "I thought you said that taking care of the shrine would be the most expensive problem we'd face."

"It would have been, Kagome," Mama agreed partially. "Yet as of the start May, this shrine will not be ours to worry about."

My throat almost immediately tightened, feeling a strangeness to Mama's words, making me want to scream that what I expected wasn't true, but by the broken way she returned my stare and the hopelessness that flooded her eyes, it only came to be an evident inevitable.

"You're selling the shrine?"

Souta's exclamation came to startle us all, as I looked upwards to see him standing by the kitchen doorway, wondering as to how long he had been observing the discussion. Just as I, his face seemed somewhat paled, and worried as to where Mama was going with the topic at hand. Everything seemed to wind down unwanted paths, and it was only to our suspense as to where exactly those paths led.

"It's not entirely like that Sou-chan, come sit yourself," Mama soothed softly, making me realize just how much she still considered Souta to be a youngster of sorts. At first I had thought she was just in a bitter and formal mood because of her tone towards me, but she talked to me in such a way because of her figuring that I was well flexed in the language of adulthood which didn't require the softening of sharp-edged subjects – yet how I longed for her comfort as well, her assurance that "everything will be alright". But I could understand my Mama's needs, I _knew _that she needed me to be an adult now more than ever, and couldn't spend her time trying to paint me happy pictures. It was just the three of us now, and in turn, more responsibility would come to be borne upon my shoulders.

"So we're not selling the shrine?" Souta asked still unsure of himself, glancing at me with a puzzled expression as I so abundantly returned it.

"No," Mama confirmed. "It will not be ours to sell. Your Grandpa had decided a while ago, when he wrote up his will with myself and your uncle, that by the time of his passing Kagome would have likely finished university, and the money he'd leave us would just be enough for us to get a small place down in the city."

"But why?" Souta protested almost immediately, much more vocal about his confusion. "Why to the city?"

"If we were to live in the Sapporo suburbs, Kagome could find a job easily in the downtown area and wouldn't have to commute such long hours," Mama explained, pointing out something even I hadn't been aware of. "Originally, we could be able to afford this, even despite the fact that Kagome isn't even in university just yet, but I'm afraid we spent more on the hospital costs than planned."

"But since we can't afford to get a new house," Souta continued to persist. "We're going to stay here instead?"

"And just how do you think we'd manage taking care of this place, Souta?" Mama sighed in exasperation, trying to get us all to catch on quicker than we wanted to. "Kagome has to worry about getting into a university now, and she'll need all the money she and I can offer. Seeing as you graduated a year ago," she looked to me. "I'm sure your one year gap of working for Effort Trust to catch up on finances must have been helpful."

I nodded, unbelieving to the fact that a year leaving high school, entering college, and working to afford it all, had passed so quickly.

"As for you," she turned to my brother. "Grandpa's will went to replenishing your college expenses as well as any last minute bills here, and the rest will be for when we get settled." 

"Settled?" This time I was the one who dug for further explanation.

"Kids," Mama looked dearly to us both. It was a loving expression, yet one that signified that what which would be said wouldn't be easy to bear. "Listen to me: As of May, we won't be living here any longer. Your grandfather, and myself and Tsutomu, have decided that your Uncle Tsutomu will be the one to inherit the shrine."

"What are you talking about?" Souta's voice claimed more volume, as both he and I were taken aback by Mama's sudden words. "We live here! Why would Uncle Tsutomu want this place? It's ours!"

"Souta, will you quiet down? Act mature." Mama scolded angrily, although appearing stern I could as easily tell she wasn't any happier about the ordeal than we were. As for myself, I was dead quiet, looking inanely at the two members of my family, unbelieving to what she said. We had lived here for… eras, practically, and almost literally, since many of our ancestors had resided on the same grounds. This was a beautiful place, and that was all there was to it. It was no wonder Souta would be so scarred by the news; as a child he spent most of his time helping Grandpa with the shrine, taking care of it or letting it take care of him. He knew almost as many legends about it than Grandpa did, and this place had become a part of Souta at heart. For me, it didn't hurt too much to think it through, since I would have been moving to live on my own at one point or another anyway, and besides, the shrine would still belong to a member of the Higurashi family, so the legend would continue along with future generations, though it was a gut feeling of mine that Souta would have been the one who wanted to continue it on himself.

My younger brother sat himself down furiously, crossing his arms and refusing to look at our mother. I could empathize with his anguished feelings, wishing too to ravel myself into a type of temper tantrum, but I couldn't as well complain. As an adult who worked often with numbers and policies, I knew that there wasn't much flexibility in such a scenario as ours. Mama had probably bent over backwards to get what she has gotten, and whether it was likeable or not wasn't the issue – as long as it was livable was what was important.

"You're saying that Uncle Tsutomu can afford to maintain the shrine, right? So that's why Grandpa left it to him?"

"Exactly Kagome," Mama continued, looking somewhat pleased with me for not behaving the same as Souta, though I still discreetly showed some forms of disappointment about where this will was most certainly headed. "Your uncle, my brother, is coming close to his retirement years so it's best he can find a place like this where it's quiet and relaxing and to his budget, but as for you and your brother, you two will be better off in the city where things can happen for the both of you – But the thing is, we don't have enough money to move to the city."

"I was just about to ask that," I couldn't help but point out with an eyebrow raised. "If we can't afford to get a new house, and neither can we afford to stay here, just what do you have planned?" I asked the question with little show of eagerness for an answer. It was a terrible thing to ponder about, for if we weren't going to stay any longer in our wonderful home, and neither were we to move to Sapporo, whatever other options that were left were anything but appealing.

"That is what I have been discussing with your uncle all this time," Mama sighed, looking tired at just recalling the weekend's hassling events, running a hand through her graying hair. "Your uncle didn't' seem to realize the crisis we were in, so it took a lot of persistence on my part."

"What do you mean?" Finally, Souta decided to voice up again, although he still looked discontented about everything that we were talking of. "Why wouldn't Uncle Tsutomu want to lend us a hand?"

"Sou-chan," we watched suddenly surprised as our mother laid a warm hand on top of Souta's.

"Kagome-chan," doing the same to me, she paused to eye us both softly, keeping us in the stilled suspense as to what her affections symbolized, what the seriousness in her tone struggled to say.

"Your uncle and I never grew up together," she began to explain; speaking of something we had known of. After all, there was a near to 2 decade age difference between my mother and her brother, Mama being 43, and Uncle Tsutomu already at 59. Mama continued with her story, "By the time I was born, he had already gone to fight in World War II. It was wonderful that he survived it, but as you know, it's hard to leave something of such magnitude unaffected. He even left your Aunt Ryoko for a few years so he could recuperate. Essentially, I never got to meet my brother until I was in my twenties, and thus we haven't gotten to share what you two share."

She looked to us deeply just then, and I could feel the clutch of her hand atop mine, I could feel that the words she spoke were transmitted from her entire self, in her soft spoken voice, quavering hands, with every touch and breath. "That's why you two should always stick together, _always _take care of each other – no matter what happens. You two are family, do you understand that?"

There were vigorous nods in reply from Souta and myself, caught still in the passion of her tone. I didn't even think of the time when Souta had put peanut butter in my shoes on April Fool's Day, or assaulted my best friends with Nerf balls when he was nine; and I'd bet he wasn't fussing over the time I ratted on him for pouring dish detergent on mother's prized petunias when she wouldn't allow him to get a new video game, or the time I had told Miyako Matsudo of his three year long infatuation towards her. Sure, those were probably the climaxes of our sibling rivalry, but the mere thought of me and Souta being anything like Mama and Uncle Tsutomu – distanced and unattached, like ordinary strangers –was enough to make those memories more valuable than gold.

"Good. Whatever you do, stick together. Always." She patted our hands twice, and held her breath for a second. Almost instantly, my eyebrows furrowed in concern, heart aching to even come to imagine what kind of past it was that my mother had lived.

"I can't believe he wouldn't help you out!" Souta suddenly exclaimed, troubled too over Mama's weary expression. "What kind of older brother doesn't look out for his only sister and nephews and nieces? It isn't like him and Aunt Ryoko have any children anyway. What an asshole!"

"Souta, watch your language please," Mama rushed to reproach his words, although most definitely not with the same stern manner she would normally use upon catching Souta cuss. It almost made it evident – to a certain degree, she agreed with her son. "I know the way I'm speaking of it now demeans your uncle, but I know he was only looking out for his own well being too."

"But we need stuff more than he does!" Souta continued to argue, being a little hotheaded, yet only out of devotion to himself, myself, Mama and Grandpa. "You already said he's really wealthy, of course, because he gets so much retirement money from the Navy! So if anything, he should have been the first in line to help us out."

"I know what you're trying to say Souta," Mama gazed to him, with an appreciative smile. "I'm happy for your concern, but you have to remember that your uncle has his own issues to worry about as well. And besides, I haven't finished explaining everything."

"You're right," I nodded, remembering the one most obvious missing detail. "According to the will, Uncle Tsutomu will be living here come May, yet we can't move to Sapporo, so what are we going to do? Are we staying here with him?"

"I'm afraid not," Mama shook her head quietly.  
"Why? Because he was too greedy to share?" Souta interjected, apparently now attached to his newfound displeasure towards our uncle. 

"Souta, it's not like that," Mama continued to hush down his anger, if not her own. "Although the temple grounds are vast, there are only certain places here that have been moderated, and you know that. We can't get any heating into the outside gazebos or temple sheds, and besides, many of them don't even have flooring or secure walls. I'm surely not going to have you two sleeping in that. As for the living areas in here," she surveyed the kitchen, and the hallways leading to the stairwells to our rooms upstairs. "It's perfect for us, but all of us together might just be a hassle at times. You two don't even know your aunt and uncle all that well, with the exception of when we visited them seven years ago! Besides, this place is ancient. It'll fall apart with all of us running amuck. It's best he takes care of it now."

"So what's going to become of us?" I finally asked directly, feeling an ache to the words. Though I didn't show it as much as Souta made a display of it, I too was upset about leaving our home, sweet home. This was a gorgeous place amongst a gorgeous landscape of trees and hillsides, Japanese scenery that dated back to the age of the temple itself. Souta and I bore no other childhood memory that didn't involve our magnificent Higurashi Temple at one point or another. Besides its fascinating history, and the dozens upon dozens of legends behind each tree, fort or stone, it was still what it would be to anyone – home. There almost never was an evening that we couldn't see the sun slip away behind the western escarpments shadowed by towering trees, or wake to a morning filled with the call of exotic forest birds, some even birds of prey, that loomed upon the vast lands. But moreover, there were memories here, memories that didn't belong to ancestors or ancient folk we knew of only by word of mouth, but memories that belonged to _us._ It was the recollection of Grandpa, friendly smile, sweeping the walkway, of Souta as a youngster climbing upon the pagoda roofs to everyone's protest, of Mama by Goshinboku, the eldest tree that guarded our home, with thoughts of her own memories, with myself by the well, staring aimlessly into it and simply gazing at the empty black, wondering only of the mysteries that lay within. And then there were the unforgettable memories, the ones that lay with us forever and only us. I could still think of it. I could still see Mama's fantastic smile, her eyes with this life that had now been taken away too many times, with her gentle kisses to him and an affection – a love – that she bore to him and no other. I could still feel the warm hand atop my head, petting my hair as I clutched to his leg as a child, grinning at his usual greeting, "How's my little princess?" Then we'd watch as he crooned over baby Souta, making the silliest faces which brought the child to a healthy laugh, completing the image of a sweet little family, with Grandpa and myself, baby Souta, Mama and… our dad.

"The only way that this will work for all of us," Mama's answer to my ponderings cut through my private stowaway of thoughts, as she continually clasped and unclasped her fingers from each other, apparently not any more delighted to what she would come to say, as we would soon be. "Is if we trade."

"_Trade?_" both Souta and I chorused unanimously, unprepared for such a phrase. I had a feeling as to what Mama was alluding to. I didn't like it.

Our mother came upon a heavy sigh, resting her chin upon her frail hand with elbows upon the table surface, as she would commonly forbid us to do, signifying the alteration of her priorities. "Yes, as in homes."

"Homes?" Souta continued to act as if Mama's second voice, with the only exception in that what he echoed was something neither him nor I fully understood. That allusion of which I had come to perceive became even stronger, and yet, I continued to like it even less, feeling as if my entire chest cavity was tightening, wishing for it to be not so, wishing for everything to be not as it was.

"I would have liked to say there was another option," Mama avoided our eye contact, keeping her focus straight ahead, as if there were something of interest within the kitchen tiles. "But this was the only way things could work out for the better. However, your uncle wanted us to pay extra for his home – he claims that the mortgage of it is higher than that of the temple – but I wouldn't settle for such absurdity. We can't afford to pay any more, so I can't see why he even bothered. So he gave in to the trade. We'll be moving to your uncle's home by the 27th of April."

Cut and dry, Mama had said it. She finally came to speak what we, what all of us, had easily dreaded, had known was coming but worked so eagerly to deny. It was worse than I had presumed, because now it was confirmed – inescapable in every essence. Not only that, but only now were Souta and I borne with the reality of it, faces somewhat caught in a pause still of flabbergasted reaction, as if someone had shut off time and we were forever enclosed in our astonished expressions. Yes, understandably, it was probably our best option. It was the only way, as Mama had put it, and there was nothing we could do but accept it. So then, why? Why did my heart burn so, why did my fists clench themselves to compressed balls of infuriation, why did my face flush with intolerance, _why_? That was not Kagome. That wasn't the Kagome I knew of, it wasn't me, a placid happy girl who didn't believe in looking down, who's optimism was limitless, who's perception of life would remain positive in every way whatsoever. But that Kagome, that wonderful happy-go-lucky girl was being tested and tried in so many ways, pulled to a taut fine line threatening to break, if it hadn't already. How was it possible? How _could _it be possible that anyone, myself or any other, would have even the slightest trace of a smile in such a condition? We were losing everything! One by one, the solid structure of this once pleasing life was caving unto itself, surrendering to these unpredictable circumstances, foreshadowing only upset, only things we couldn't stand, only things I couldn't bear with any longer. I couldn't take it. I couldn't be happy. I couldn't be optimistic. I won't pretend life is blissful. I won't imagine hope in something that is utterly hopeless.

_"You can't do this!" _ Suddenly, all of that emotion condensed together, erupted in its own anger, with no means of prevention I stood myself and slammed my palm against the table surface, feeling a sting overwhelm my right hand as the sound rang loud, yet ignoring it I glared at my mother menacingly, heart racing and words unstoppable.

"Kagome, _WHAT_ is wrong with you?!" She showed no acceptance of such behavior, firing at me a look nearly lethal, in a supposed effort to calm me down while only rousing herself at the same time, as I could tell she was not impressed.

"What is wrong with me??" Yet I fought back with a sarcastic echo, stupidly and uselessly as it was, knowing it was a certain loss but still feeling that need to struggle, that urge to win what was already lost. "Listen to yourself Mama! It's impossible, if we leave, everything will be all messed up!" I tried to keep from shouting the words, lacking in a more imposing vocabulary, yet trying to get my point across.

"Kagome's right!" Souta suddenly backed me up to my sudden surprise and adequate relief, stepping in just as Mama was ready to lash out a response. "We can't leave Kamui-Misaki! We can't leave Hokkaido province, or the island! I mean, Sapporo was okay, but Uncle Tsutomu lives all the way in Aomori!"

"That's right! On Honshu Island, it's impossible! We'll spend more money just trying to get to the district of Tohoku," I stamped my point across boldly, teaming up with Souta, yet not exactly knowing as to what avail. It was useless, as I had already figured, yet that strange presence of argument still burned deeply, inspired by everything that this place stood for, both in past, present and future. "Mama, if we leave, I'll NEVER get into Hokkaido University, I can't afford a dorm! And even if I could I could still never—"

** "YOU TWO, BE QUIET! THAT IS ENOUGH." **

I had thought my voice was loud. I had thought my tone was glass shattering, but never mind that now. I felt belittled and tiny, totally meaningless and absolutely powerless in comparison to the force so invoked by my mother. She had stood herself, having slammed both fists against the table until I could almost swear I had heard the table legs creak in protest to such abuse, catching myself and my brother entirely off guard, to the point where I had to step back and could only look at her in fear of even breathing and enticing such an outburst all over again. I couldn't even look over to Souta, but yet I knew he would seem no different than I, intimidated to a submissive silence, unknowing as to how to go about the situation. We both stood and stared to our only parental figure left, half standing now as she slouched over, hands clasping the ends of the table facing downwards to the patterns of grain embedded in the wood. Her breath was rapid, inhaled and exhaled through her nose, using her breathing to slow herself as well as her temper, making myself realize just how much our arguing had affected her.

Suddenly, I felt very weak and selfish and stupid. How could I have done that? Just how I could I criticize? How was I helping the situation? Who was I to judge what is best for us? Who was I to think only of myself? I didn't know exactly, but I knew I felt disgusted with who I was becoming, disappointed and vilely disgusted.

_"Do you think I complained…?"_ quietly, forcefully, she spoke with a tone so bitter it nearly sent shivers all over. I swallowed. She continued. "Do you think I complained about this? When by some miracle, all of us will have some way to provide for ourselves with a new start in the city of Aomori in your Uncle's nice home in the suburbs, I didn't even _think _about complaining. I was grateful. I don't care if he lived in a shack encrusted with termites, it doesn't matter. You two don't understand, do you? We're barely surviving here, and this is the best deal that was offered! How _dare_ you two complain!"

Her voice seemed to rise in tension with each passing word, weary from her emphasis that we refused to come to grips with, angered by our self-thought, our lack of consideration. This became clear to me as she lectured, realizing that I _was _being troublesome when I knew it would only worsen the situation, making it harder for myself and Souta, but most of all, making it harder for her. I was supposed to be the most mature, the eldest, the understanding one – yet I was as cooperative as I was infantile. Guilt came to me of which I didn't attempt to swallow down, knowing it was only there rightfully so, thus instead I allowed it to swallow me whole.

"How dare you complain!" Mama repeated, sounding shaky in her words, as if on the verge of tears. It crushed my heart as if it were beneath my feet, feeling a self-loathing come upon me, wondering as to where my mind had gone. I dared not to protest in defense, and neither Souta nor I spoke a second of a sound. We stood in silence, in acceptance, of what we had known but so insensitively ignored.

"I didn't complain," Mama's voice became somewhat stronger, more passion, more feeling to it all. "I didn't complain when everything started turning for the worse, alright? I didn't sulk about it all. I didn't whine. I didn't go to someone and blame them for doing what they could to help me when it wasn't enough. Don't you think I wanted to? Don't you think I just wanted to shout how unfair the world was when my mother passed away from leukemia? Or how about when your grandfather was sick from cancer, wasn't life unfair to me then as well? Did you see me complain, or blame the doctors for not trying hard enough, or you two for not caring enough? Let's not make up imaginary problems! I didn't, and I won't. There _was _a real problem. Your grandfather was dying. I accepted that. I did what I could; everything and I mean _everything _in my literal power to stop what I couldn't prevent, and maybe it helped and maybe it didn't. But I didn't complain, when even after all that, I lost my father and about a year's worth of income, I had lost it all without complaint. You lost your grandfather. How can we complain? Everybody loses someone, and in my case, I've lost three 'someones'. I've lost _people, _not things, not houses, not university admissions, but three good-hearted people! But there's no one to blame, it happens. I lost your grandfather, I lost your grandmother, hell, I even lost…"

She trailed ever so quickly, ever so quietly, and tightly bit her lip, in which I did the same. I closed my eyes and looked away so quickly I nearly hurt my neck doing so, not knowing what was worse, feeling sorry for myself or hating myself at the same time as I felt sorry for her.

Opening my eyes I found Mama staring at us both, Souta and I, straightening her posture, taking in a breath. "Let's not dwell over the past," she said gently, her tone as if having transformed, possibly hiding hidden emotions, or yearning to get beyond them to whatever it was that lay ahead of us all. "You two know that the future that is stated by this will is all we have to go by. I'm sorry if it throws things off the balance, but Kagome," she smiled to me, unexpectedly, yet I held my breath. It was a comforting smile, one that was priceless and rare in every which way. "I'm sorry about Hokkaido, but you'll only need a little more money to get a dorm there. Don't give up. We'll change a few things on your registration and reapply for that loan, with your grades, your bound to get support here and there. But there are great schools in Tohoku as well, I know it's not what you wanted, but it's the all we can have."

I nodded quickly, thankful for her forgiving words. Maybe later on, maybe even this evening, I'd kick myself for feeling all of the work worthless, knowing it was impossible now to get into Hokkaido, residence and all, without a surprise scholarship on the horizon, on which I had barely qualified for but never received. But really, for now, and maybe for a long while longer, I wouldn't care about such a thing. I couldn't care about such a thing, for wasn't I just to be grateful to even have an education? Never mind the where's and the when's and the details, but just to learn was its own privilege. That was the way Mama looked at things, looked at the life she had to live with all of its pros and cons, and that's the way I once was, and had to come to be. "I understand, Mama, I understand."

"That's great," at my words, it was as if a burden was suddenly lifted from her shoulders, allowing a sort of new and refreshing look of contentment come upon her, and work to brighten that smile. Looking over to Souta, she asked the same, "And you?"

My only brother gazed at me, handsome dark eyes demonstrating he was also unsure of our vague lives ahead of us, yet he returned Mama's gaze and nodded, "I understand."

"Alright then. You may take a look at these papers if you'd like, but I just thought you both should know to start packing by this weekend. I'm sorry for this. But what more can we do?"

And so Mama left us with that rhetorical question, from this strange morning of mornings, walking herself down the corridor and up the stairs as we listened to the soft gradual movement of her feet, knowing that once again our mother was escaping to her own best times, alone, just alone in her private seclusion. It could be taken into assumption that she spent that time grieving, soul-searching, praying, thinking – whatever it was that Mama needed to by herself and on her own. Over the last week, those times when she had disappeared to the corners of the temple in her isolation were quite worrisome, terribly worrisome at times, where in my mind the devastating image of stumbling upon a mother overdosed with pharmacy drugs, eaten away by the moths of depression, lay remnant. But now, although the words of the will were not ones that were easily rejoiced to, it gave my heart rest, and Souta's rest, that there was promise where there was none before. It gave hope, a new chance that maybe Mama's depression would come and go, and solitary time would become family time once again. I had huffed over the fact that I couldn't go to work today, and Souta couldn't go to school, two events that I thought would signify the start of a normal life. But instead, as it seems, it was the decision made by my mother, the event caused by the will that signified the start of our new unknown lives left looming ahead of us, coming closer to our outstretched reach.

**Side Note: **

The country of Japan is divided into four main islands: Hokkaido, Honshu (the largest), Kyushu and Shikoku. Japan also has eight districts, similar to provinces or states, of Hokkaido, Tohoku, Chubu, Kanto, Kinki, Chugoku, Shikoku and Kyushu. In this fanfiction, Kagome resides in Hokkaido, near Otaru and Sapporo city near the area of Kamui-Misaki. Whether Hokkaido University is located near there is unknown, it's location being near Kagome is only a fictional aspect ^__^. Japan also uses the metric system, and since I'm familiar with the metric system (Go Canada! lol ^__^) I've decided to use it here ^__^. 


	5. Mystery

**M Y S T E R Y**

It was funny when you listened to it – rain. It drizzled on like a thousand droplets splashing at a time, mismatched patterns of sound that could have had a whimsical message in itself assuming one takes the time to study its mystique. As they lightly fell on their unknowingly long journeys, the independent forms of water conjoined together upon meeting on the ground, trickling down slanted surfaces and gathering together in the depressions of the land as if forming miniature lakes, such as with the countless puddles that lay scattered on the temple grounds, rippling in a magical dance of circular movement every other second, as yet another traveler from the sky reunited with its lost comrades. How oddly common, natural in these months of Spring, yet fascinating unto itself, nearly poetic. Of course, it had been Grandpa who had taught me such a thing, taught Souta and myself, always stating that if we ever wanted to see something impressive, all we'd have to do was take one glance to the lush outdoors. But as he went on to explain his extensive methods of self-exploration and self-harmony, it was pretty sensible to say that Souta and I would eventually come to lack interest, for teaching children such spiritual concepts never did look promising at first. To us, a rock was merely a rock, clouds were simply clouds in amusing slow-moving forms, and what came to intrigue us could only hold our attention for a matter of minutes. But I figured, as we, or as anyone, grew older into less dynamic lives and into more methodical and predictable mindsets, it would only come to be a matter of time before Grandpa's words of wisdom would repeat themselves, finally working to unravel their secret meaning and unleash their fruitful benefits. And thus, on my way out I had stopped to observe the rain, to just observe its every movement play upon my senses. Of course, I had known days earlier that it would pour today, and that the echoes of thunder in the distance would come to be as foretold by our local weather channel, but even then, rain was no longer just rain. They were symbols now, each and every drop and sound and touch of coolness were all symbols to me, reminders of not just events, but emotions, most definitely emotions. It was easy to think of Spring as a season of bountiful birth and new growth, life-giving water to be showered upon the lands, as if a time of joy, and that was the way I had thought of it so much before. That was my association with rain. But no longer was that now the case, as I watched the spectacle ensue, for as I had decided just three days ago that rain was not a symbol of life, at least no longer was it for me. I couldn't think of rain in such a manner, for the last time I had encountered the downfall of nature's tears, it had not been for a gain of life, but a loss….

I jingled the keys within my right hand, allowing their metallic clanging and prodding against the surface of my skin to awaken me from the scenic trance, recalling suddenly the task at hand. The skies had turned gray in their weeping, the weather somewhat chilly, and the morning slipping so easily into the afternoon. Because of today's strange circumstances and the disagreeable behavior of the weather, there was nowhere to go and nothing for Souta or myself to do. Which is probably what led us to look over it, pure curiousity at work, youthful interest as a result of boredom and confinement to one's home for such a long period of time. Whether it had been mentally healthy for us two to have looked over the terms of the will ourselves, without the discretion of Mama, was debatable, but Mama had left it out on the table flat for the world to see, having also invited us to look over it, so what could really stop us? I hadn't expected anything much interesting to find with it seeing as our mother had already discussed all that I thought we had to know, but little did we suspect that she would skip out on a detail that even Souta had already been aware of…

I paused my thoughts for a second; having too, as I felt a warm body engulf my left leg, slightly damp fur rimming my ankles. Thankfully, I had already changed out of my umber office stockings and into nothing more but casual sweats, and thus I happily allowed Buyo to pace through my legs, as if walking about in figure eights, a rumble of purr still audible over the cry of the rain.

"Hey, how come you're not inside?" I crooned to the small yet aging fellow, squatting over and scratching him gently against his neck, his vocal expressions of gratitude increasing in volume as he returned my look with a simple feline gaze, yellow eyes blinking once to rid of the water droplets delicately hanging on his eyelashes like dew on a blade of grass. I noticed that he wasn't as wet as I would have expected him to be, so I picked the cat up in my arms for a massive cuddle, having to put some effort in lifting him seeing as Buyo's diet was just as ineffective as my own. I loved little Buyo, and I couldn't help but think that over as I cradled the eight year old, who with age became submissive to constant cuddles and lazy porch days, where he did just what I did now – observe. Buyo was never much of a wanderer, content with the landscape of the temple grounds, and sometimes just the house porch, rather than exploring any further than that, which went to explain how nearly dry he was – probably just having stayed under the wooden porch awning to shelter himself from the rain and watch the world flourish before him. With a last little kiss, I used a free hand to open the screen door, welcoming us to its usual screeching of hinges that were never oiled due to human unwillingness to intervene, which then got Buyo leaping onto the kitchen floor with a probable craving for turkey-flavored dinner.

"Souta! I'm letting Buyo back in, okay?" I called, poking my head back into the kitchen, yet not spotting my brother in sight. However, the lights were still on and the will, as far as I knew, was still where it lay upon the table surface, which meant Mama was still sleeping, or meditating, or whatever it was that she decided to do on her own time since she hadn't come back down to retrieve it. As for Buyo, he had inevitably directed himself on a one-way course to his awaiting meal, but instead found himself glaring in disappointment towards an empty bowl, licked clean by previous hunger hankerings. I decided to call for my brother again, "Souta?"

There was a sudden thudding of footsteps carelessly faltering down our stairwell, as I looked ahead to the hallway, where Souta suddenly emerged from the upstairs. His face seemed a bit flushed, almost even surprised to see me, and I could almost take a hint that he was trying to catch his breath. I couldn't help but enter into the kitchen to stare at him suspiciously from a few feet away, watching his every slightest move. There was something… off… about him.

"Souta," I gave him a look, hands on hip to complete the older-sister-lecture visage. "Could you be any louder? You're going to wake Mama at this rate!"

Glancing up the stairs, and then to me, he casually replied, "I just checked her room. She's already awake, she's on the phone."

"Is she really?" I couldn't help but say, allowing my hands to fall down to my waist, pondering over Souta's words, playing with the cool keys amongst my fingers. I hadn't expected him to say that, I figured Mama would be reading, or writing, doing something quiet and on her own, but on the phone? That was unexpected, even attempting to picture Mama willfully making connections to the outside world brought a surefire skepticism upon my point of view.

"Who was she speaking to?"

"I dunno," Souta shrugged, his eyes drifting away from mine, as if he were anxious to return upstairs for whatever reason. That of course only worked to entice my curiousity, noticing tiny fragments of strange manners becoming more apparent with every passing moment. 

"I thought you were going to the shrine," he said with a bit of a quaver to his voice, probably trying to turn the focus of the conversation towards me.

I took a breath, juggling the keys once, facing him in the eye as I walked slightly closer. It was strange that they weren't in Souta's possession, and I was still wondering as to why they weren't. After all, just short moments before he had been the eager one, the one who had awaited until our mother had disappeared off into her realms upstairs, to then snatch the will off the table and thumb through each of the pages carefully. I hadn't paid him much mind at first as I set out to wash our breakfast dishes, still in the mental shock of what had been previously discussed. Even now, I hadn't exactly hit the full reality of what Mama had spoken of. It still seemed somewhat dreamy, although not exactly 'sweet' so to say, a far off reality that I still thought was somewhat changeable, bendable for when I wanted it to be. I didn't want to move. I couldn't see myself moving, and a part of me felt that I, that we, wouldn't' have to. All the same, I knew that wasn't the case and what lay ahead of us was near to written on stone, but before I could dwell about all the upcoming hardships of it, Souta had interrupted me with a totally different focus, one that I had happily attended to, as to relieve my mind of the constant plaguing of the mere mention of financial trouble. What Souta would come to say about the will, as I would soon realize, would be totally unrelated to the problems, but added on a new feature: a mystery.

"Kagome, it's here, I knew it! Come see, sis, come see!" he had said, eyes having finally paused upon the fourth sheet, glued onto them as if it were the next issue of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit calendar, persistently poking his index finger to the middle of the page, until I feared in a matter of seconds, there would be a nice fine hole to look through. Needless to say, I rushed to his side not so much to 'see', but to scold.

"For the love of it Souta!" I had scampered over hurriedly, absent-mindedly drying my soapy hands on my office skirt, yanking the important document away from him, frowning to see mountains and valleys of eternally-imprinted creases spreading out from the center of it, to where Souta had been so earnestly pointing to. "What were you trying to do? Rip it in half?"

"Hmph, you're the one getting it all wet," he had scoffed in return, standing himself and somehow managing to get the sheet away from me a second time, me having to hold back a shout of protest for at the time I had still believed that Mama had been sleeping. "Besides, you're not listening to me. LOOK at the sheet, who cares about the crimples."

Although as prepared as I had been to list about a thousand people who _would _mind if there were 'crimples' to decorate something as significant as the will, I too had been totally shut to silence as my eyes finally trailed to the direction Souta's fingers pointed, as he held the sheet up only inches away from my face.

"See that?" He had asked earnestly, voice full of excitement. "See write there in bold print? Right under the cash agreement."

"I see it," I had finally stated, trying to act rational as I pushed his arms down to get the document away from being the only thing in my view. "You get to inherit the ancient samurai swords, you're so lucky, those things are pretty—"

"No, no, no!" Souta had rolled his eyes, returning the paper to it's position just an inch away from my nose, surprising me that he didn't want to elaborate on his inheritance. Those swords had wooed Souta since he had first seen them, and it was to my curiousity as to why they hadn't been the subjects of his exhilaration.

"Not that. Look there. '_Kagome Higurashi (granddaughter) — 1 Oak Cupboard_."

I had raised an eyebrow oddly, gently taking the sheet from him, and reading over what it was that he had mentioned. Then I had read it again. Then again. It was strange. It had been strange, peculiar, to see it there in print, this gift from my beloved grandfather that I had known nothing about until much later, many days since I had last seen him. I hadn't even gotten to thank him! Why hadn't I known of this? Why hadn't Mama told us of these things, these gifts… these heartfelt treasures?

"Why didn't Mama tell us?" I had raised my eyes to meet Souta's softly, seeing that his were just as alive and curious as mine were, strangely not finding depression or aggravation for once with that dreaded will, but a sort of… part. A part of Grandpa's loving being, his soul, that didn't lie in money or ink on paper, but within his last thoughts of us, his grandchildren, as he himself had decided that our memory of him would be left in what it was that we gained from him. And so, our hearts burned for these hidden memorabilia, for that part of Grandpa that would belong to us and us only.

"I'm not sure why," Souta had replied. "Maybe that's why she left it with us so we could find out for ourselves. But whatever it is, it's here. I've seen it before a while ago, it's over in the shrine, the main shrine."

"The main shrine?" I had echoed, allowing my eyebrow to rise even further. "You mean the Sacred Temple?"

"Exactly."

It had been at that point that I continued to wonder and further involve myself into curiousity about just what it was this whole "cupboard" thing was all about. It was then that I had immediately recalled Souta having mentioned it on the Friday night, something that we both probably forgot to follow up on. He had told me that he had known of it, because he had seen the cupboard before when our own grandfather had shown it to him about a year earlier, and had mentioned my name for a reason Souta hadn't been sure of. He figured that at one point or another; that little wooden utility of mysterious storage would come to belong to me, as it was now so proved by the terms of the will. As for the reasons why, or it's significance to Grandpa or myself, I figured we would soon come to know. That eventually got Souta to bring me the Sacred Temple keys form the corridor, since it usually spends it's time locked, being the most valuable part of our property, and had urged me to go on and check it out. For some reason, he hadn't tagged along, and now as I stood facing him with his restless expression having emerged from the upstairs, I still wondered as to why he had refused to see the cupboard with me.

"I was on my way to go to the shrine," I finally answered by stating the obvious, placing the keys on the countertop as I surveyed the kitchen for any means of a temporary umbrella. "But it's pouring out there, and I'll get my slippers all muddy. How about you put on a coat and shoes and come along? Those samurai swords are there as well. You can see them."

"Ah, that's okay," once again, Souta strangely refused, shrugging his shoulders as if not just moments before, he had been ecstatic about everything. "I think I'll come with you later, when the weather is better. I… I've got stuff to do right now that I need to get finished."

"Is that so? Just what _are _you doing?" I decided to be outright with it, not wishing to delay my curiousity any longer, having genuinely wanting his accompaniment but disappointed, needless to say, that he would turn it down for reasons I didn't understand. Then my eyes fell almost suddenly to his hands, as I noticed something I hadn't seen before. "Gee, Souta, what are you doing? Painting?"

I couldn't help but wonder the thought of him doing such a thing, as I came to study his right hand, blotched heavily with spots of red and white, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, grasping onto a red-tipped sable paintbrush that, if I wasn't mistaken, actually belonged to me. There had been a time a few months ago, when feeling unenthused as I had spent so long working, and not enough time learning, feeling rather experimental, I had purchased an interesting paint-by-instructions set. It had been motivating at first, allowing some of the contained creative juices to flow on canvas, yet it hadn't taken me long to figure out that there are quite a large of range of people. There are writers, readers, musicians, artists, athletes and so on and so forth. Amongst all of these, I didn't know exactly as to where I, Kagome Higurashi, respectively dwelled, but at that point in time, while viewing my painted trees that slightly resembled dismembered cheese-strings, I confirmed that I was most definitely and undeniably, _not _an artist. But then again, maybe Souta got the benefit of not having to share that trait….

"Um, yeah, it's just… nothing," he began to stammer, having my nosiness only come to soar as Souta's face came to flush with need of an explanation.

"Ah, c'mon, what is it? I can tell you're trying to hide it from me," I continued to urge, striving so desperately to use his puppy-dog tactic against him. "Tell me, _pleeaase_?" At that moment, I had already managed to walk up right to him, poking him gently on the shoulder with my finger, pouting my lip and directing my eyes to the paintbrush, eyelashes fluttering in what I figured was a nicely pathetic rendition of needy, nosy irritancy. I had no idea as to how well it would work, but it did manage to get Souta to let out a sigh.

"Sorry Kag, but it's a surprise, I can't tell you yet." 

"Well, why not?" I couldn't help but mumble with disappointment to an answer I hadn't wanted to hear, that puppy-face transforming instantaneously to a bit of a scorn, bratty almost, as if to try and win some sympathy, or a leak in his secrecy. "If this thing is so important to ya, it can't hurt to tell just _one _person, namely your loving big sister."

"Ha, nice try Kagome," Souta shook his head without any form of lenience to my situation, hand placed on the railing, already starting back up the stairs. "Look, just go outside and get the cupboard. I promise soon after I can show you what I've made. Then it will all make sense."

"What will all make sense?" I continued to persist, feeling totally at a loss on the situation as I wondered about it. Would Souta really be done finishing whatever he was doing by the time I retrieved the cupboard? And why on earth couldn't he just come with me, it would only take a matter of minutes anyhow. It was such silly strangeness I didn't understand the meaning of, couldn't tell the importance to, but still desired to know all the more. It was as if everyone was hiding something, and everything was hiding even more, leaving me to frustratingly ponder just how it was I got stuck in the midst of all the odd happenings. 

"Souta, come back," I called with frailty, but it was already too late as I continued to whine for my brother's return, watching only as he slipped out of view from the second floor, rolling up his sleeves as they had started to come down. But then at the top of the second floor hallway, I spotted my younger brother leaning himself over the guardrail, staring back down at me, myself feeding him the absolute best of my "don't you feel sorry for me" looks. He gave a bit of a smile.

"I'm not going to tell you, Kagome. For now, let's keep it a mystery."

"A mystery?" I scoffed, blinking once then seeing my brother was now gone, having disappeared to his own room where I had heard the door shut slowly. As I stood there uselessly for a second, my ears became enticed to something else. It couldn't be — a laugh? It was strange to think it, to even come to try to familiarize with such a sound, but it _was, _it was a laugh! And no ordinary one at that, it was _Mama's _laugh, ringing almost happily from within her own room, where I heard soft murmurs of her voice speaking to someone that didn't reside in this house – not to Souta and not to me – but someone else… on the other line of her phone call. 

I didn't know what to think, what to do or what it was that I should say but I did know this much:

1.) My brother was confining himself to his bedroom with a set of miscellaneous paints, for reasons I didn't understand, that would somehow "make sense" of everything

2.) My mother was in her room, as she usually was in her time of seclusion as a soft-spoken, hard working, yet for the present time, usually depressive, tired and agitated woman who needed her moments away from the world. However, although she had once been so filled with a serious and dramatic tone, she was now enjoying a carefree laugh with whoever it was on the other end. It surely couldn't have been family (namely, it couldn't be Uncle Tsutomu) and as for anyone else it may just be… I hadn't a clue.

3.) And lastly, as I made my way back into the kitchen, quietly, amongst my thoughts, retrieving the Sacred Temple keys which I had left upon the countertop, I knew that there was something awaiting me in that divine place, something that was destined for my hands and only mine… a cupboard of all things, its purpose I yet didn't know, as our entire family lay looking to a future filled with unanswered questions.

Needless to say, Souta's decision to name it as it was felt entirely appropriate. Considering the circumstances, taking in account all of the unknowns, there was only one way to define such a strange scenario that longed to be solved: _mysterious._


	6. Sacred Temple

**S A C R ED T E M P L E**

As the heavy, wooden door rolled to the side quietly, I was immediately greeted by the Sacred Temple's soft sweet smells, with the essence of church incense and the sparkling frailty of the sprinkling rain. I inhaled it all deeply, filling my womanly lungs with the Shinto Shrine's most holy air in a sense, embracing the security of the four-walled structure after having spent a few agonizing minutes patronizing the key and lock as they had refused to cooperate any quicker than they had. Not to mention that Souta's windbreaker was now soaked through, the water droplets deflecting off the plastic surface and instead having moistened my face or dampened my hair against it. It may have just been the escape from the drenching spring weather which brought a sort of relief and strange harmony to the atmosphere of the aged, small and dry temple, but also a part of me was no short of certain that the shrine itself, mainly this section of it, would always hold a powerful aura that defied all of the outer conditions, concealing anything in it to its magic alone.

Pulling back the jacket hood, releasing free presently wavy strands of deep black, I rolled the sliding door back into its place, shutting out the echoes of the outside rain as it spattered against every surface, quite a calming yet noisy racket upon the thousands of leaves of trees. But in seconds it seemed as if almost silence in this indoor seclusion, with the exception of the faint and almost inaudible pit-pattering of water droplets upon the shrine roof. And so my focus was left to my surroundings, to the ancient and somewhat whimsical area that stood before me, proud and mysterious as it always was.

There lay everything, untouched and unmoving, basked in the shadows cast by the higher semi-transparent beige windows, not so much windows even, since they were made of a much less dense material than glass, with instead a rough feel of canvas or burlap. Everything, although barely even looked upon in this quiet and secluded place, had not even a remote dusting of dust or infringement of dirt, as the shrine had always been so well maintained, wonderfully looked after and cared for. It was my grandfather's apt duty after all, if not his solo passion altogether. Needless to say, the shrine had become a part of him, as it was a part of our family, our heritage and history. Why, hadn't it just been a month ago or so, when Grandpa had asked me to help him adjust the bird feeders? Grandfather loved birds, especially the small and rather musical ones that resided in our neighbouring sycamore trees, and our home sure served as refuge to the tiny creatures during the winter, where plenty of feeders were hung about as the birds came and went for some easy food in the brutal weather, and as the months of spring had edged on, both Souta and I helped in refilling them for all of the new fledglings to come. It was a charming experience to say the least, one that unknowingly had become ritual for all of us, a once happy time in a once happy place. It was so strange to think of it now, maybe even ironic, that the two most memorable aspects of such a memory were fading and gone, for as we lost one, we were now coming to lose the other as I knew that soon enough we would bid farewell to the wonders of this sacred place, and all the thoughts of family and Grandpa within it...

I swallowed tightly, and blinked. I would not think of such a thing. There would be plenty of time to sulk, to grieve, to agonize, in the coming few days, but now I had a curiousity, did I not? For once, Souta and I had come across a temporary distraction, by chance finding mysteries that lay before us to keep our thoughts keen and sharp. It was inevitable that soon as soon was, the reality of the hardships of the mere thought of leaving would hit home, and thus depression would settle. Until then, until my last ounce of optimism would thus be extinguished with hope to vanish alongside, until then, I'd do better with my efforts in repressing such sadness.

My fingers graced over the fine details of the carven wood against the shrine altar, faded now with an olden, retired maroon paint, yet still delicate and elegant as if it were new. It gave off a faint shine from Grandpa's faithful polishing, unlit candles standing solid in the place where offerings would usually be made, or prayers quietly said by the priest or priestess that, over the centuries, had ministered where I stood. That thought alone was accompanied by a mystifying feeling to it, one of which I had pondered since early childhood, tugging at an elder's sleeve in question over whether I just happened to be sleeping with ghosts, which had been one of my fearful concerns as a youth. Over time, that fear had grown to respect, an understanding similar yet not yet as strong as the one Grandfather invoked to our ancestors before us, lying dormant over watch of us through the course of the 500 or so years of the Higurashi Shrine's existence. Of course, it had only come to be known as the Higurashi Shrine sometime in the late 1800's when Grandpa's grandmother had first inherited it, having no male siblings, and thus her husband, my great-Grandfather and the first Higurashi to reside on the grounds, had his family name becoming the shrine's source of identification. Such trades of marital ownership had occurred a few times in the shrine's history, defying that of even Grandpa's knowledge, and so the multiple generations that had come and gone before us could only remain mysteries in itself, with each of them having passed through where I stood, walked through where I walked, slept through where I slept. In a way it _was sort of creepily discomforting and could keep one up to frustrate over it for a few nights, but overall, I could only be intrigued to what must have been an exciting past lived where I stood many years ago in the midst of the Japanese feudal era. How interesting would it be to get to go back to such a time...._

Before my thoughts could wander any further into such impossibilities, my eyes came to still themselves upon a particular area, the possibly most sacred of sacred of that within the Sacred Temple. It was what could be compared to such of a tabernacle, the area of storage of something great and important, priceless yet incredibly valuable. I barely even wanted to breathe around or in such a place, having to take a step back and glance at the fancy ado over the pedestal, carved with such intricacy like that of a Corinthian Greek column but with the same mythical creativity as that of Chinese decor. The patterns of wooden dragon scales and ivy leaves wound up the pedestal to come to an elaborate collage of artistic display on the capital of the column, until finally upon it lay a violet, velvet drapery of which Grandpa had purchased since the older ones had looked worn and unappealing. Fringed with a gold lace, upon the velvet, lay a sort of a marble, rectangular arch, standing perfectly still and erect with its own mystique and pride as it held the true jewel, the sacred of the Sacred Temple, balancing delicately from the arch's ends. I had seen it plenty of times before, as one could not come into the Sacred Temple without noticing it, but for the first time I came to study it a bit more intently.

There lay what Grandpa had told me of many times before, and only now did I wish more earnestly that I had listened more earnestly, for looking upon the treasure, I was left with only vague ideas as to what it symbolized. It could be described as a necklace of some sort, with smaller jewels on the side leading to a grand pendant that dangled heavily in the middle. Those smaller jewels were in the shape of jagged white diamonds, a bit offset, and according to my grandfather bore the same age as the temple itself. Obviously, I had a hard time grasping such a concept, wondering why on earth such an incredible historical artifact would still be here guarded by nothing but a cheap padlock rather than encased in precious glass in some prestige museum. But I shouldn't have been surprised either, for it was natural custom for Shinto Shrines to preserve what was sacred to them, and fact of the matter was that this little ornament was probably more precious to our family than the viewing public. Yet still I had to look upon it strongly to wrap my mind around its incredible age, and to the more amazing factor: what it was supposedly made of. To the fascination of both Souta and myself growing up, Grandpa had always told us the legend of this magic jewel, the Jewel of the Four Spirits or so it was called. Our ancestors had actually not created it, but it was brought to the shrine many years ago and guarded by a priestess, as to protect it from the various monsters that wished to attain the jewel to earn grand powers, or something of the sort. Of course, all that sounded much like it had come out of a fairy tale, but yet Grandpa wasn't reluctant to show us the evidence that what he spoke of was real. He claimed that the white jagged diamond-shape beads around the jewel were actually fragments of bone from numerous monsters that the priestess had defeated, purified and placed with the jewel to warn other beasts that if they attempted to take it from her, they would come to endure the same fate. The likelihood of that being so was slim, as the entire family knew, but it seemed we always had fun with the thought of the benefit of the doubt.

It took a few moments, but I finally managed to lure my eyes away from the spectacular orb, noticing it didn't have the same luster to it, looking more like the souvenir marble jewels Grandpa had made for any tourists who stopped by. I decided not to think of it, as something else caught my attention almost immediately. Just behind the pedestal and the Jewel of Four Spirits, lay the ancient samurai swords of which Souta had inherited, but among them was something rather interesting. Reaching out a hand, I took the long structure carefully, realizing I hadn't seen it before. Where had it been all this time? Had Grandpa been keeping it elsewhere? I didn't know the exact answer, but thought not of it as I inspected the long slender bar of wood. It didn't take me long to realize it was a bow, as in an archer's bow, which looked so old that it was faded and worn with splinters in many places. The string used to attatch to the two ends looked new however, probably added on there since the original had possibly already snapped. Gazing upwards, I found what I had expected to see to satisfy this curiousity, which were a group of equally old arrows lying where I had found the bow. Taking one, I wondered if I was being carelessly stupid playing with such treasures, but for some reason I was taking an immediate drawing to it. The bow may have been old, but it felt so natural in my hands, felt as if it belonged there. That was strange to say, seeing as I had never even taken archery in my life, much the less actually held a bow, but it seemed like a likely thing for me to do, assuming I still lived in that day and age that such primitive weapons were used. I fumbled a bit with the two items until I held them in a somewhat decent manner, mimicking what I had seen of people holding such things on television, than randomly aiming around the shrine. Of course, I wouldn't be dense enough to release the arrow – the string wasn't even pulled back far enough to cause much damage anyway – but it was even more amusing to pretend to aim it, feeling as if I were meant to do such a thing all along. How weird, most definitely weird, but enjoyable. Closing one eye and peering to focus with the other, I could almost feel that if I were to release the bow, I would have had a perfect, clean shot. I didn't know why I thought like that, but it seemed as if I were right. Regardless, I continued looking around the room in my hunter-style fashion, until…

Both my eyes opened suddenly, and I lowered my arms, suddenly losing interest in the ancient toys. I decided to stop acting like an overgrown child, and more responsible as my vision remained forward ahead of me, realizing that it had been here in this room all along. How had I not seen it before? I was being negligent of my duties. I had come here for a reason after all, and after long, I had finally found it. It sat there right in front of me, a whimsical little being, and I smiled with a contented assurance – it was beautiful, and it was a gift for me.


End file.
